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Frustrated and looking to pick a fight, Bo shows up at Jaya's Bar. Kaskan enters shortly after and the two men waste little time in throwing punches. Before long an all out complete brawl encompassing the entire bar erupts and Jaya returns to the bar just in time to witness the chaos. Rio turns up near the end to nearly get crushed as patrons attempt to flee the wrath of the bar owner and her big barmaid.

Rating:

PG18 - Language and Violence

Logger:

Bowen

Eastern Weyr: Jaya's BarA dark, cozy room has been carved out of the wall on this section of the hallway. It looks as if it was meant to be an archive of sorts, but when the back wall caved in, it made most of it too low for efficient shelving space. Instead, the remaining shelves have all been pushed back against one wall and a large wooden counter - so new it still smells of tree - blocks it off from the rest of the room. A few small tables take up the rest of the place; simple chairs sit around them. It's bare bones and boring, now, but there's potential. It just needs the right touch.

Mid-evening finds Jaya’s bar in its usual state of crowdedness, no doubt with Suli and possibly others holding down the fort, as it were, assuming Jaya’s absence. A man with a grim expression pushes through the entrance, including the shoulders of any patrons unlucky enough to be in the way of him as he enters. Any cries or curses go ignored for the moment and the stocky tanner heads straight for the bar without looking at anyone or anything else in the room. Bowen’s never been in this place before, but he’s heard about it in the last few sevens he’s been at the weyr. Not all of it is good, which seems to suit his sour mood just fine. Whoever is manning the bar at the time gets a hard look with steely blue eyes and Bo simply grunts, “One bottle of whiskey. Yer best. An’ not now, but two seconds ago. Got it?” Then he lapses silent and waits to be served, finally turning to gauge the men and possibly women in the room. His dusty hat still on his head, his shadowed eyes settle on the gaming tables for a brief time, contemplating joining, before he scans the rest of the room, that is, until the staggered thunk of the bottle and glass behind him on the bar counter captures his attention and he gets to pouring, generously, while pulling out the marks that the bartender claimed was the price of the whiskey and setting them on the counter along with a rather generous tip.

Kaskan enters the bar with less fanfare, merely lingering near the entrance with a stoic countenance that keeps those in his immediate sphere at arm's length as if by some invisible magnetic force. Light blue eyes are shadowed by over-long layers black as a raven's wing that fall half-hazardly across his view. The tilt of his head uses them to his advantage as he scans the evening crowd, then, apparently not spying whomever he's searching for, he moves forward into the room and approaches the bar. By time he reaches the counter his observant gaze noted a distinct trail of spilled liquid and grumbling folk that seems to lead right to the bar and one grouchy looking fellow in particular. So of course Kaskan head's straight for this particular person and claims a stool conveniently emptied by a patron not liking the looks of the new arrivals.

Bowen puts the rest of his little drawstring bag of currency back away, though tucked for convenience in case he should need it again soon. That’s not his entire life’s saving’s of course, but there’s enough there for what he anticipates needing for the night, and judging from his mood when he walked in, a lot of liquid will be flowing tonight. He finishes pouring his drink and sets the bottle back down with another firm-sounding thunk, not really caring about any of the looks or grumblings he’s gotten from some of the other patrons since he’s walked in. Judging by his dark looks at them, he’s practically daring them to come at him right now. While the stocky tanner cannot be said to be boiling over with rage, he is obviously just barely keeping a lid on something ominous and perhaps those who sense it and don’t want no trouble are the ones not taking him up on that challenged look he gives them. And so it is when Kaskan arrives and takes the vacated stool next to Bowen that Bo gives Kaskan that ‘look’, one part challenging and one part quiet assessment. As the bartender finally takes the marks from the counter, Bo takes his first swig of the whiskey and barely grunts at the way it burns down his throat. Then he nods to Kaskan, finally, as if in greeting. Wordless though it is.

Kaskan leans his back against the counter and braces his elbows on the edge, casting a casual sidelong observation at Bowen as the man drinks and seethes and finally nods his way. Kaskan returns the nod, barely. A little mental voice kicks in to remind him of his official orders on good behavior, representing his Hold, yada-yada-yada. He'd quit listening somewhere about then. A deeper instinct clouds those memories; a primal male response that senses a challenge and wants to react in kind. Though his left hand is bandaged tightly from palm to wrist, the fingers that protrude curl and uncurl. Wordless byplay continues in the confident air he exudes, eyes bright and watchful unlike the other patrons who look away from the heat of Bowen's gaze. Having talked Jaya into a harsh Bitran vintage on his last visit he glances briefly at what the man is drinking and asks, "Any good?"

As decent a drinker as Bowen is, he’s not so decent as to be able to treat the whiskey ‘bottoms up’ in one gulp. Neither does he do any kind of sissy sipping, though. He takes a second quick swig and this one gets a short hiss of an exhale, though if it is more for show as the normally quiet man’s system starts to absorb it on an empty stomach or he genuinely took a little too much with that gulp, it’s hard to say. Cool blue eyes settle on Kaskan again, watching his hand flex, before the slow response comes, harsh and husky, “Not since th’day m’mama shat m’ out.” Beat pause. “’pparently.” Bowen likely knew Kaskan meant the drink and not himself, but Bowen is feeling very ‘bad boy’ tonight in his own right. “Yerself?” He asks with a jerk of his chin as he pours himself another helping and not at all offering any to Kaskan. My whiskey. Mine. This time, he leans on his left arm on the bar as he drinks with his right hand, downing a healthy draught and slowly exhaling through the burn of it.

Dark brows furrow over a narrowed gaze as Kaskan deciphers Bowen's accent enough to understand the direction his reply took. When he does, his eyes widen and a little twitch pulls at the corner of his lips. Bowen is exactly the sort he's sparred with on countless occasions - some for practice and some for life n' limb. Either way it's been far too long since he really let go and enjoyed a good fight. Sensing a worthy challenge, Kaskan merely snorts and drawls with a hint of his own northern heritage slipping through, "Only on the rare occasion when I feel like it." Blue-to-blue, his gaze adds several layers to a tone already thick with innuendo. This, apparently, is not one of those occasions.

Though it's been long enough since that attempt to round up runner thieves that the bruising and cuts are likely gone, the memory lingers still fresh enough for Bo that it's not really been so long for him. But considering the beautiful woman he just watched walk away from him not a candlemark or two before, and with very good reason, the itch to get it out of his system is all too obviously on the surface, leaving little to the imagination about the direction the night is going for the brooding weyrtanner. He drains the last of his second drink of whiskey - these aren't full glasses of course, just the usual few finger-fulls - Bowen gives a little roll of his shoulders in subtle limbering up, seeming to think things have been kicked up a notch in some way. Still, those who know Bo well would never describe him as the sort who rushes into anything. So he pours himself a third glass, sets the bottle down again, and sets his hat on top of it with a head jerk toward the bartender, "Lose m'hat n'whiskey, lose yer face." Whether the barkeep is feeling up to taking threats or not, Bo dismisses said person by tossing back half of his third drink, and dropping his lower jaw briefly to growl out an exhale for the burn. Then he looks back at Kaskan and says simply, "Fuckin' lucky fer you, Purdy Boy." Because apparently Bo feels like having a choice of being good or bad is something to be resented, at least right this moment. But then, he's trying to pick a fight. "Ya get a ribbon fer it?" drawling out the 'you' a bit in almost a sneer, before nodding at him almost cordially, oddly, "Name's Bo," not even introducing himself with his full name.

Kaskan exibits a fair amount of postering himself, especially after the little show Bowen puts on with his hat and the whiskey bottle. His pose remains insultingly relaxed, leaning on the bar as if Bowen is no more a threat than the dirt beneath his shoe, but wiry muscles tighten as his demeanor coils like a spring just waiting to be sprung. He has no idea of the things that have brought Bowen to this moment, but the expectant air of testosterone-driven attitude is too tempting to ignore. Darker angry hues shade the blue of his gaze as he levels it on Bowen, not liking the nickname the man chooses for him. "No, Bo," Kaskan starts, mockingly echoing the other man's tone as he draws out his name. "No ribbon. But plenty of bloody knuckles that spelled 'Kaskan was here' across broken noses and bruised jaws."

Bowen could be that distracted or just that oblivious or he is simply choosing to ignore the coiled threat of a bruiser beside him at the bar, cocky as Bo can sometimes be. Hard to say, really. Could even be that at this very moment the man is just feeling like he’s gotten such a shitty deal out of life that he doesn’t even care whether Kaskan is man or feline, reckless and frustrated as Bo is feeling. And so he drains the last of his third drink of whiskey, all on an empty stomach, and all in a matter of a few minutes since entering, and his brooding blue eyes turn back to Kaskan with dark threat as Bo sets the glass with remarkable gentleness back on the counter as the stocky tanner straightens with Kaskan’s words, “Kason? Didja say Kason?” The second time the name is stated, the tanner is already swinging before he finishes the sentence, aiming a solid right hook toward Kaskan’s jaw. Whether he connects or not, the weyrtanner all too used to brawling, is already starting to dance back with his left arm up in front of him in a boxer’s defensive posture and a glare that simply says ‘let’s do this’.

Kaskan could use a good shot of alcohol himself right now but adrenaline and general male rowdiness seem to be doing the job just fine. His jaw works beneath a light coating of scruff, lips tightening into a poisonous smile at the slurring of his name. Watching Bowen closely he doesn't miss the tightening of muscle and shift of stance that precede the thrown punch, already kicking off his stool and bouncing lightly to his feet even as the other man's fist makes a less severe connection with his chin than intended. Still, it's enough to jerk his head to one side, whisking random raven layers across his face. A chorus of noise erupts in the room as chairs skid on the floor, glasses and mugs clink together, feet scuffle to get out of the way (or to improve their view) and voices raise in both consternation and encouragement alike. Kaskan bounces off the heels of his feet, backing to just beyond arm's reach as he gets his bearings and observes Bowen's stance. Circling, he ignores the shouted commentary from the onlookers and feints suddenly to one side while swinging his good hand up and aiming to undercut that defensive arm Bowan has raised. "No, I said /Kaskan/," he corrects with a cocky tone meant to distract. "And here's the bloody knuckles."

There’s no shaking of the hand as Bowen connects, partly because he was more or less braced for it and used to it and partly because he didn’t connect hard enough anyway. But Bo doesn’t seem undaunted, even curling one side of his mouth up in a sly smirk briefly, as Kaskan circles him. Having danced back a pace or two, Bowen turns with Kaskan’s circling and finds himself on the fringe of a bit of crowd, or at least close enough to make a difference. Stocky as he is Bowen is able to take a good bit before going down, but the trade-off is that he’s just not as quick. And between that and the three glasses of whiskey burning through his system, Bo blinks at just the right moment for that feint and missteps just enough for that uppercut to make it past his defenses and hit him in the chin, though not as squarely as perhaps Kaskan was aiming for. His head and upper body whips back, headbutting the person behind him and sending him into another, and spilling drinks all over the place. Of course, no doubt the bouncer, who may very well be the intimidating woman Suli, is starting to try and clear things up, but before it’s all said and done, the person behind Bo growls and lurches forward with a sloppy thrust just as Bo is side-stepping right with a shake of his head to recover, and potentially said bystander either sends punch at Kaskan, or at one of the neighboring bystanders by mistake. There’s the sound of a chair breaking, somewhere in the crowd, and more shouts as things start to really heat up. On the tail end of the bystanders missed punch, at least not connecting with Bo, Bo throws a jab toward Kaskan’s gut with his left hand, which isn’t his power hand, but still a little muscular nevertheless, and since Bo sidestepped to the right, a bit more convenient to use that arm than his right one. “Ah, Kaskan,” he grunts through his jab, “Sorry, man.”

Kaskan is momentarily pleased with himself, adrenaline coursing through his veins as his uppercut connects and sends Bowen tilting backwards. Muscles sing with the excitement of motions too-long unused, freed at last from the restrictions Kaskan's decision to try a regimented and honest living have put on them. Guards have rules. Street-fighters don't. A flash of white-toothed grin appears at the results of his first swing, and tensed for a response he easily ducks aside from the by-stander who lurches forward, even giving the man a little extra shove as he passes. The resulting crash and loud shouts as the man careens into the onlookers behind Kaskan simply adds fuel to the chaos. With so much to distract him, Kaskan lets his attention be diverted for two seconds too long and when he looks back to Bowen - really it was only a split moment, right? - the man is landing a solid fist right into Kaskan's gullet. Air exits his lungs in a rush, doubling him forward and sending the arc of his automatic return swing off by a few inches from the jaw he's aiming at. "Apology…." he grunts huskily, "… not accepted."

The cacophony of noise is probably drifting into the weyr corridor beyond the entrance by now, as people are getting bumped and spilling beer, others are careering into others, and punches start getting thrown everywhere, whether they were part of the start of it or not. One fellow, Bowen observes from his angle as he withdraws his fist from Kaskan’s gut, is sent sliding down the length of the bar and into a gaming table, upsetting drinks and cards and marks everywhere. Weyr tavern wenches scream, and as a few of them try to slip past to escape, Bo is distracted by their various states of undress (so, he has issues, but he’s still a guy) in his testosterone-driven and slightly inebriated state, and you can believe that if the tanner was still wearing his hat, he’d take the time to tip it at them on their quick getaway, which means that as Kaskan’s automatic swing to Bo’s jaw is off, right when Bo turns back to face Kaskan with, “Buy ya a drink then?” he feels the chin music and it’s enough to whip his head back to the side and shoulders slightly turned. Working on the inertia that gives him, Bo completes the turn to try and pivot into Kaskan so that most of his back is now to the Hold guardsman while Bo’s elbow swings back in an attempt to catch Kaskan in the jaw with it. Unfortunately, he doesn’t complete the maneuver as just as he gets finished pivoting, one of the bystanders swings a chair at him. Flinching only slightly, Bowen reacts to the more immediate threat and grabs the chairleg with his already raised arm and growls at the bystander, “D’ya mind? M’tryin’ t’have a c’nversation ‘ere.” And gives the chair a big shove so the bystander is unable to stand on his two feet and goes down under the thrust.

Enter Jaya. Really, she had only stepped out for something like 30 minutes, perhaps thinking that the crowd was decent and tame enough for Suli to handle on her own. Would anyone /dare/ to try anything in her presence anyways? Apparently someone had - two someones, by the looks of it - for when the bar owner walks in with a short, petite blonde woman, the two in easy conversation with each other, it all stops at the loud crash heard. "What the f—?" Jaya starts, pushing past the woman she was talking with and immediately launching herself into the crowd that has gathered to watch the spectacle. It's just as well that the towering Suli reaches the fight before she does, for the by the time she reaches the two men, she's already caught a glimpse of one of their faces. A familiar one, at that. And she did /not/ just hear a crash, did she? With Jaya screaming "Hey!!", Suli's swooping up right to the side of Bowen and laying her meaty hands on him by the shoulders. She's a big woman, and in comparison to Bowen she might be able to actually move the man with some obvious effort - that is, until one of the bystanders swings that chair both her and Bo's way and it catches her as well. She buckles, her hands off the man in an instant to turn and swing one meaty fist at that very bystander. Great. Now her -barmaid's- fighting! That was it. "Hey, fuckers!" Jaya's calling, now reaching down to pull free her hidden knife and reversing it to the hilt. She wasn't going to stab the men, but she was sure as fuck going to knock them down. She comes in at Kaskan then, eyes blazing with anger.

Kaskan braces for all of two breaths as he sees the chair heading toward his head and Bowen's, but as the other man stops it - for which brief mental kudos arise - he immediately throws himself at Bowen's back and locks his arm around the other's neck. "Not the slop you've been drinking," he growls just behind Bowen's ear. "Look where's it's got you!" The sudden fall of a firm hand on his shoulder turns his head slightly, distracting him before he can put the most pressure on Bowen's throat. Wiry he may be, but harsh experiences have toughened him immeasurably and filled his lean frame with solid, sturdy bulk. As Suli turns away another flash of movement catches Kaskan's attention and he jerks his chin to swing over-long layers out of his view. "Oh shit!" he blurts, then sidelong toward Bowen's ear. "She's back!" No time for reprisals though. Just then a pair of wrestling gamers erupt from a nearby table, one throwing the cards from his hand and the other throwing the table over on its side. The two grapple, fall, and roll right into the back of Kaskan's legs. Balance gone, Kaskan shouts and automatically tightens his hold on Bowen - either keeping aright by choking the man completely or toppling them both.

Someone in the crowd actually appears to have been thrown and the poor man yells just before making impact and sinking into the thick of another group of bystanders already shoving and punching each other. More cracking and splintering of wood adds to the existing din of shouting, screaming, swearing, punching, thumping, cracking (of bones), grunting, puking, and, yes, crashing sounds. House rules? Screw the house rules. In all the noise and distraction Bo doesn’t seem to notice Jaya’s shout, but he can’t miss the arms wrapping around his neck. And not in a good way. To Kaskan’s response made to Bowen’s peace offering, the tanner grunts, offering in turn, “Got me? Y’aint gonna kiss me now, are ya?” He asks, remembering Max’s words when they last went to the Infirmary together. “Buy me dinner first,” stated relatively calmly despite the neck-hold as Bo tosses the chair he had used to shove at the other patron who had been wielding it, or well, he tries to, but between Kaskan’s grip and Suli putting her hands on his shoulders, he doesn’t quite got the swing for it and while Suli has let go to swing a fist at the bystander, the chair just simply does a little hop in front of Bo and then skitters across the floor a little ways, only to be tripped over by another pair of brawlers and crushed as they go down swinging at each other. Bo’s already starting to reach up to Kaskan’s arms with his now free hands while trying to the barmaid a quick nod in appreciation despite the fact that she was just likely about to grab him and throw him out of the bar. House rules, indeed. As Kaskan’s knees buckle from the brawlers behind him, Bo arches backwards with him, because that is more pleasant than being choked, and uses the inertia to kick at an incoming lunge from another patron, push off a little, and if Kaskan has it in him, will roll backward across him, attempting to slip his head free of the grasp, though considering his weight might just end up in a pile on top of Kaskan and the other two brawlers instead. It’d look prettier in execution if he hadn’t already had some whiskey.

Suli and that bystander are fighting heavy, but it's clear who's going to win this fight- the Telgari wasn't drunk after all, and a few more swing might render him unconscious. Jaya, meanwhile, with that knife in hand, stalks up to Kaskan the moment he has his hands around Bowen's neck. It's with force and without pause that she swings, the blow with the knife's hilt aimed at the side of Kaskan's face as she doubly kicks at his closest leg. Both men maybe stronger than her, but she's not letting that stop her! More crashes and scuffles from behind get her attention, and she turns in time to see that card table of gamers erupt. "NO!!" she shrieks, tearing herself away and not waiting to see if Kaskan goes down. She's shoving bystanders roughly aside, tossing at them words like, "Bar's fucking closed! Get out of here /now/!!" as she makes her way over to get Suli's attention. A good slam into the older woman's shoulder is all she needs, and Suli turns to move off towards the new fight in the back. Back to Bowen and Kaskan, Jaya picking up an overturned stool as she approaches, and it's probably not a good thing to be in its path by the way she's holding it.

Timing is everything. And Rio's timing is evidently everything bad. She steps into the bar, from her own automatic trek there, and her thoughts immediately parse from thousands of miles away, to -right here-, -right now-. Rio steps immediately to the side, and tries to get back and out, but her exit is blocked by a jostle of patrons who hurriedly try to depart, before the chair-wielding bar owner finds them to target. So the Weyrling leans shoulders against the wall and tries to make some sense of the motion and violence, and those who visit it on one and the other.

Stars. Lots of them. Twinkling pinpricks that blind Kaskan's vision momentarily after Jaya's knife hilt connects with his temple. Something slick and sticky rushes down the side of his face, immediately matted in random strands of dark hair. Confusion is complete as gravity takes leave of his senses, his legs knocked out from under him and his security hold on Bowen flipping backwards instead of keeping him aright. There's nothing to do but hold on tight and go for the ride. Tense muscles screech in protest as an elbow hits the hard floor and his hip is wretched to one side. A loud yell erupts from somewhere and as pain lances up from his bandaged hand he realizes the sound is coming from his own throat. Various curses add to the mix from below as the rolling gamers find themselves getting jabbed and squashed by the tangled weight of both Kaskan and Bowen. Striking out in anger, one red-faced fellow tries for a kick aimed at Bowen's nether regions, shouting curses and blaming his mother. As for Jaya? A few lucky souls may see her coming and duck out of the way but Kaskan is way too distracted to even look up yet.

While Kaskan is seeing stars, Bowen is seeing a blur of motion, the room spinning as he sort of attempts a poorly executed backwards tumble. Often things sound better in his head before he says them and ends up getting some woman mad at him about something. This time, however, the maneuver looked better in his head. Of course, he was probably misconceptualizing Kaskan’s positioning as such maneuvers are usually pulled off with one’s ‘partner’ bent forward, not backward. And so between Bowen having had a few and miscalculating, Kaskan having brawlers behind his legs, being hit in the face with a knife-wielding ‘crazy’ bar owner, and then kicked at, and gripping Bo more tightly as he goes down, anyone who would expect Bo’s backwards tumble to come off looking like Jackie Chan does Pern is out of their freaking gourd. The twisting frenzy of not one, not two, but four bodies on the floor includes someone who wants to make sure Bowen never gets another girl pregnant again. A shame for Bo that if he’d just have asked, Bo would have possibly told him it wasn’t necessary; he wasn’t using it anyway. And so Bo’s twisted heels over head attempt at finesse results in a soft crack, grunted moan, sound followed by a pop and a shout of such pain that even muffled by Kaskan’s chest (as Bo is now sort of turned around and upside down) it is pretty clear as day someone’s shoulder got dislocated in that meatpile as well as manly bits not feeling too good either. But one blue eye of the brute of a tanner peripherally spies Jaya coming at the pile with a bar stool from over the top of one of Kaskan’s arms and so in a valiant but weak attempt to forestall the inevitable but kicking a foot out at hers, trying to trip the bar owner up, even if it means she just might end up on the pile with them. Still, having a barstool dropped on you is better than having one thrown down at you, right? Right?

No one wants to mess with an angry barkeep - particular one that keeps a beast of a woman with her and has the nerve to pass her off as a barmaid! At Jaya's shout, those patrons not involved in the fighting are running for the entrance and is probably pinning Rio to the wall in their exit. Those looking to linger to watch quickly changed their minds when they saw both Kaskan go down with that hit and that stool Jaya hefts. You better believe this night will be talked about for next sevenday or so! Out of the corner of her eye, Jaya spies Suli grabbing at least two of the drunk, brawling, card playing men towards the entrance by their clothes, and she turns toward Bowen and Kaskan with the leg-end of the stool towards them. She watches them go down but is still coming…until Bowen kicks that foot out at her and she trips hard. She lands right on Kaskan with a yell, no finesse about it. That's really how Suli finds her when she returns to the bar, frowning at the pile of men with one woman on top. The things that could be said with that! Furious, Jaya rolls herself off the men and lands against the stool hard before shooting looks their way. Panting heavily in the ensuing silence of the bar now, "You will both pay for the damages," she says low, dangerously, fixing a glare at Bowen first. "And then you will take your drunk asses out of my bar before I /really/ get angry." She tries to get up and fails, a catch in her throat at the sharp pain of a sprained ankle. So instead, she waves irritatingly at Suli, then at the men beside her. "Take them out before I knife one of them," she orders coldly, dragging herself slowly to her feet with the help of the stool. Then Suli is coming forward.

"I think you already did." Rio's alto, calm, as the woman finally pushes off the wall, with a final glance cast toward the door. Rio has taken to wearing shades of ivory of late, and this, together with her dark skin, lends a sort of exotic odd to her presence. Her eyes, above her veil, flick toward both of the men on the ground, and the jumble of cardplayers nearby. Rio sidesteps Suli quickly, but sends a look after that one as well, as she straight-lines toward Jaya. Lower toned, then, "You alright?"

Rio situates herself then, next to the bar owner, offering an arm and a shoulder to help the other ambulate. "What happened?"

Under other circumstances Kaskan would welcome the press of soft feminine curves against his prone form but when they come wielding a wooden structure and hell bent on breaking it over his head, well, that puts a different light on matters. Escape is hindered by both the presence of Bowen and the throbbing flashes of pain eminating from various parts of his body. Still, he tries. And fails. Yet another solid blow to his gut nearly doubles the young guard; it's a good thing he hadn't eaten lately or he'd've lost it by now. Still, he does a fair job of recovering and groans as she rolls off and he can attempt sitting up straight. "You could've just asked if you wanted a roll," he quips through clenched jaw. Bandages hang partially unwrapped from his injured hand as he holds it close to his chest. Seeing Suli bearing down on them he gives Bowen a shove. "Get up ya oaf, and hurry up if you wanna keep your balls intact!"

Bowen grunts a little as Jaya lands on top of the pile, but that’s nothing compared to the groan coming from the guy on the bottom. Serves you right, dickhead, for kicking Bo in the nuts. While Jaya rolls off and gets all ‘barky’ by Bo’s standards, and Kaskan sits up, Bowen starts to slowly roll off, stiff and sore and bruised and starting to swell, and not in a good way; with his left arm kind of hanging limp at his side, Bo shoots his gaze to the face of the man he started all this with, “Y’okay, Buddy?” in a rather concerned tone considering he just picked a fight with him a few minutes ago. That is, however, just before Kaskan shoves at him, and the stocky tanner puts his right hand to the head of the guy who kicked him in the nads to use as leverage to stand up on his own two feet, though slightly crouched. Before his hand leaves the guy’s head as he straightens, Bo gives him a rough slap. “Think it’s a lil late,” though if he’s talking in general of the hour or of his balls being intact, he doesn’t clarify. Bowen’s seems to be slowly getting his feet moving again as Suli bears down on them, and he sidesteps to the bar where he left his hat and the bottle he already paid for, “Not without m’hat,” he says to Kaskan, putting said hat on his head before reaching in his pocket and tossing the coin purse onto the bar. He came here looking for a fight, and so he came here ready to pay for it, apparently. Plus drinks. So, there should be enough in there to cover a few broken chairs and even a table or two, and maybe a bottle or two of drinks, though he didn’t think he’d be paying for them without them having been drunk. Then he grabs the bottle by the neck, still uncorked, and circling around the remaining pile of men on the floor, he tips his hat to Jaya and Rio and Suli, with the tip of the bottle, smiling at them with a bloody lip and a chin already starting to swell and bruise, “Ma’am. Ma’am… Ma’am.” In farewell before hightailing it out as fast as a man with bruised loins can move.

"You'd be in the infirmary by the time I was done with you," Jaya tosses back at Kaskan's words as Rio approaches her, the bar owner looking grateful at seeing her confidant. "Think I sprained something," she sends this to the weyrling, a hand reaching out for Rio to help her. As to what happened? Well, the bar owner's twisting and throwing dirty looks right at the tangle of men on the floor before she, finally, takes in the damage to her bar. Lips press together severely at the mess she sees, "I stepped out for a second…" she tries to explain, shaking her head as she makes sense of this. Hard eyes turn to Bowen, the man unfamiliar to her so she gives him longer scrutiny than she does Kaskan, Eyes go from one to the other and back again before she's asking, "Who started this? And I swear if this is over a woman, I would have half a mind to double the charges you're about to cost me!" But then, Bowen is up to his feet and heading out, setting the marks down as he grabs his hat. Jaya's too pissed to stop him, and he -is- leaving, so it's with piercing eyes that she lets him walk. You can believe she'll be seeing him again, for sure. Whoever he was. She'll even watch his backside as he leaves. Then, with him gone, that only leaves the other one to get her ire: Kaskan. Him against three women? Definitely not a good position to be in.

Rio plays the strong short type fairly well. She'll loop an arm around Jaya, as added support, and lean her own weight to counter any weakness in the bar-owner. Her regard also tracks the big tanner, the arc of the money bag, and her head at least dips at his 'ma'am', though she tracks his exit with the same level of interest Jaya does. However, Kaskan catches Rio's attention once more, and she'll stare at him. Her further study of him convinces her of a familiarity that she cannot pin down. Kaskan is out of context and nearly two turns older than when she saw him last. "Alright. If you're alright. I came… By to see how you were, but… I see you are busy." Clearing out the bar, and it is clearing out.

Rio looks again at Kaskan, unabashed, as she reaches to readjust her veil, unconsciously draw attention to the cloth, instead of her eyes. More of the other patrons file out, before Rio's indrawn breath is audible. She'll ease her arm from Jaya's form, to ensure the other has her balance, before muttering, "Just passing by, I guess. Go see a healer if anything swells, Jaya." Then she's turning and soft-footing it toward the exit, her head down as she tries to remember where. Where she might have seen features like Kaskan's.

Kaskan lets loose with a few more growled curses as the last man disentangles himself and makes a dash for the exit, skirting around Bowen as the tanner rises. "Couldn't be better," is tossed via grumbled smirk to Bowen's inquiry, but is immediately countered as Kaskan moves to rise as well and stumbles right back down on one knee. Breathing heavily he grinds his teeth and pushes upward again, smothering the surge of pain from a twisted ankle. He will /not/ crumble in front of two, no - he blinks as the shrouded form beside Jaya registers - make that three females. Somewhere deep inside a purely male instinct will note those gorgeous eyes within that veil, bringing them back up later, but for now he's mostly concerned with Jaya's acid tongue and the haze of pain he's fighting against. Damn Bowen! Storm-clouded blue narrows on the tanner's exit, leaving Kaskan to face the fury on his own. Shuffling a few steps to the counter he leans his one remaining good elbow on the edge of the bar. Having thoroughly enjoyed himself despite the resulting physical drawbacks, Kaskan isn't above diverting the blame so he looks to Jaya with an open expression and bluntly answers, "He did."

That is indeed odd. Jaya's attention to Kaskan turns into one of confusion since Rio suddenly just stares him down, and the abrupt departure has her frowning after the gold weyrling. It -must- be a full moon out tonite, right? Either way, she does call out after her friend, her concern for the other evident before Rio is gone. By then Suli has already caught up the one that broke Bowen's fall, and she's 'escorting' him out none too gently and leaving Kaskan with the bar owner. She looks him over then, noting the further injuries to him other than the bandages that had come undone in the brawl before she meets his gaze. "He did," she echoes that, seeming to somehow not believe him. Maybe it's because she knows Kaskan slightly more than the stranger with the hat. In either case, once Suli returns, "Take him to the infirmary, Suli," she finalls orders her barmaid, letting weariness finally wash over her as she sweeps another gaze at the damages to her bar. Then, shooting a hard look onto Kaskan as Suli offers the man her arm, "We will talk about this later," she tells him, much in a tone that this talk may not be as pleasant as their last one as she turns from him and moves toward the counter in dismissal.

Bowen ain’t stupid, plus, of course, Jaya had just ordered Suli to throw them out. He thought he was doing her a kindness of leaving as fast as he could. However, he did note the blood from Kaskan’s head on his departure, and so once outside the bar itself, and out of immediate line of sight, Bowen lingers there, apparently feeling bad on some level. The guy gave him a good row and he ain’t one to forget it, but in a good way. He takes another swig from the bottle as he waits, expecting Kaskan to come out on Bowen’s heels, and intending on showing the man to the Infirmary … the least he could do, really, but when Kaskan isn’t coming out like the bat out of old Earth Hell as Bo would expect, the tanner merely grunts and shakes his head. Another final swig of the whiskey straight from the bottle as he watches a couple others get roughly escorted out, and then Bo is turning and staggering down the corridor, leaving Kaskan to whatever fate the poor guardsman is delivering his own self into.

Kaskan pastes a roguish smirk on his lips, the last hopes for charming any verdicts of innocence from the woman dispelled by the completely unrepentent light in his eyes. Giving his chin a habitual jerk to clear his view of all but the worst blood-matted strands, he levels a look full of manly pride on the barmaid and shoves himself aright. Managing to only sway a smidgeon he gives his rumpled, torn and alcohol-stained shirt a tug before informing her, "I can manage on my own, thanks." Attempting to take a deep breath without looking like he is, Kaskan takes a few awkward steps. Pausing to cast one last look over his shoulder he gives Jaya a wink, saying, "I knew you'd find an excuse to talk to me again," then quickens his pace before she can catch him. Once out of the women's view, however, he does limp his way to the infirmary and perhaps run into his cohort along the way.